Terra Trailblazers: Costa Del Sol Shenanigans May 2019

Costa Del Sol Shenanigans May 2019

Video here. A week of fun condensed into nine minutes.

Another year: another Sierra Cycling holiday. We know the drill by now, seven am flight from Newcastle airport; up and out of the house by four am, eleven am, sunshine, palm trees and meeting Alexis by the Easyjet desk. Five of us in total, me, Rod, Charlie, Keith and Ian, anticipating a great week of riding. Three of us had brought our own bikes, fitting pedals and pumping up tyres in the sunshine as a plate of sandwiches appeared from the kitchen. When we were ready, the van was packed and we set off to meet the other guests at a parking spot above Mijas, ready to spend the remainder of the afternoon riding down to Fuengirola, only about eight and a half miles but fine to reacquaint ourselves with dusty and loose trails. Had a “this time last week” moment; last week, sunny but cold in Rosedale: this week, sunny but hot in Mijas. Introductions were made to some of the other guests, all from down south somewhere, let’s be honest, to me it all gets a bit vague past York but we know now that Northampton is nowhere near Southampton. Our companion from the previous two years, Shaun, was there, as well as last year’s guide, Jon, aided by this summer’s work placement student, Sean, winning the most Northerly person Top Trumps by being from Aberdeen, making our quasi-Geordie contingent look like shandy-drinking, jellied eel-scoffing southerners. Two new guides Emily and Clive have also joined the company.

We rode every day, even the ‘rest’ day took in a gentle pootle along the coast to the next town for coffee and chips. According to my Garmin the stats for the whole week:

7 days riding

108 miles

7300 ft ascent

19100 ft descent

Avg temp 27.2 deg C

The second day began with the Sierra breakfast, perfectly cooked by Carmen and Mary, while the guides decide where the day’s riding will be. Catering for the vagaries of a diverse bunch of clients, this week ranging in age from ten to sixty nine and their riding preferences can’t be easy but everyone ends up with the sort of ride they enjoy as the clients are separated into like-minded groups. Our merry band were shuttled to the infamous Helipad Start, the van is driven to a large car park, high above the pueblo blanco of Mijas, from where a steep and loose ascent begins immediately, last night’s ‘sensible’ drink suddenly doesn’t seem so sensible, especially the free shots, which, in the interests of international relations, we are too polite to refuse. After a little over half a mile the purgatory relents to a mere climb and we spent the remainder of the morning riding sandy trails through shaded woods.

Lunch was at the BP Station cafe, along with park cafes, petrol station cafes are Spain’s undiscovered secrets, phenomenal food at the type of prices which make us Brits think we’ve been transported back to the Seventies. A random dog began helping itself to people’s kit, which they had, (unwisely, it turned out) left on a grassy area adjacent to the cafe. All the gear was recovered except one of Keith’s elbow pads, which is now probably laying chewed in some bemused dog owner’s garden. The four kilometre climb following lunch got us back into riding mode, ready for the long descent back to Fuengirola, Voltacado, the one which (eventually) comes out alongside the river in town, after descending and ascending various exciting lumps and bumps on the way to a dried up river bed. And then it’s beer from the fridge with a few nuts to keep us going until dinnertime.

The remainder of the week passed in a similar fashion, varying between woodland riding around Coin and Alhuerin and high mountain stuff, Telecom Towers and Ashes to Ashes being two highlights, both of which start high on narrow tracks of skittery rock with bowel loosening exposure, a vertical drop of hundreds of feet just a twitch of the handlebars away, every loose rock comes with the potential for a helicopter ride. The awesome views are best enjoyed at the rest stops. One day we did Malaga bike park, not a bike park as know them in England but few well established downhill runs, with uplifts between, great for practicing technique and gaining confidence. Most days we received some coaching from Jon, who was far too polite and professional to comment on the disparity between our years of riding mountain bikes and the levels of skill and technique he was witnessing. All of us took something from the coaching, I overcame my personal nemesis and rode a few switchbacks in the bike park using advice from the cornering session we had done a few days previously.

Many people have asked about the Sierra MTB set up since we returned to this wet and sunless country, which really is how it was landing in Newcastle, we left Malaga 27 degrees and sunny, three hours later, 7 degrees (“real feel - 1 degree) and raining, anyway, Sierra have three houses in a small estate built around a swimming pool. The houses are three storey, four bedroom with a large living room and open plan kitchen area, breakfast, drinks and snacks are included, the fridges in each house are always well stocked with beer and soft drinks, wine and spirits are also available plus nuts, biscuits, energy bars and the cyclists’ favourite - bananas. All included in the price of your holiday. The daily routine is breakfast at 09:00, served in the breakfast house, bikes in the vans and off to the chosen venue, ride around until lunchtime, a leisurely lunch before riding back to sea level. The amenable guides will tweak the rides to suit the guests and are on hand for any mechanical issues, as well as being first aid trained, thankfully that particular skill was not needed this week. Airport transfers are included in the cost, bike hire is available for those who don’t enjoy dragging a thirty kilo bag around airports. Our little party paid five hundred euros each for the week, except those who hired bikes who paid an additional two hundred euros, considering the standard of service, I’d say it is a bargain, judging by the amount of return bookings, it’s fair to say most others think the same.

The town of Fuengirola is a typical coastal resort town catering for all tastes and budgets, food can be cheap and cheerful or more refined, all the major world cuisines are represented, Chinese, Indian, Italian, Thai, Greek, Lebanese, Spanish (naturally), the inevitable Sunday roast proudly advertising Bisto gravy can be found for those who “can’t be doing with that foreign food.” The local beer is good, especially Alhambra, Mahou and Victoria but if you are that way inclined British and Irish beer is about, inevitably in bars full of slurring, red-faced golfers trying to drink up the courage to do a proper sport like mountain biking. Spirits are not delivered through miserly optics, it’s more of a tip the bottle up and say when sort of culture, which seems like a grand idea at eleven pm but not quite so fine at eight the next morning. Troopers that we were, we never lost a rider to the drink, although the previous evening’s Mexican food made things touch and go one morning. Who needs Picolax when there are pickled jalapenos?

We had a brilliant week, probably best summed up by Ian one night, as we sat in Colon Square (the jokes about going up the colon, were all done, don’t worry) where all the beautiful people of Fuengirola go to eat and be seen, another excellent day of riding in the bag and more to come, six pint glasses clinking together, our first drink of the evening in the warm night air.

“Welcome to Hell lads.”